Playing with Fire
by PrettyinPwn
Summary: The year is 1974. Stanley Pines, a young man from California, is focused on achieving his life long dream. With his twin brother Stanford in tow, he settles down in a town called Gravity Falls. But as he notices that there's a dark, supernatural side to this place, Stanley's world begins to crumble. Will he make it out of the inferno unscathed? Based on the Stan Twin Theory.


**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

Yep. I'm rewriting the story. I was unsatisfied with the last version, so I decided to redo _Playing with Fire_. Hope you like it!

* * *

**Playing with Fire - Chapter 1: Trying**

Stanley couldn't help but be drawn to the flame. It sat upon the horizon, shimmering, shifting, with trails of crimson seeping into the remains of a clouded day. Sometimes a copse of pines smothered the view and the young man, mesmerization interrupted, would settle his dark gaze on things other than the sunset; a glittering little town in the distance, the long road ahead, the maroon hood of their Ford Galaxie, or his twin brother humming in the driver's seat, one fist supporting his head and the other wrapped tight around the wheel. Stanley glanced over his features. A strong jaw. Thick nose. Focused eyes and wiry hair that were - for lack of a better term - the color of soil.

They were much like his own, he thought, and then continued to blankly stare at him.

"Somethin' wrong, Stannie Boy?"

Genuine concern saturated Stanford's tone and expression; every once in a while he - the older twin- would take his sight off the road to look at Stanley, bottom lip caught between his teeth. Even so, Stanley didn't appreciate the use of his dreaded childhood nickname. He gave him cocky smile and replied, "Just making sure you're still ugly."

"_Ass_. Besides, what does that say about _you_?" Stanford paused as he swerved the car down a gentle curve in the road. "I look _just_ like you."

"Yeah. If I didn't have glasses and put on a gallon of hair gel every morning."

Stanford was about to bite back with some angry retort, but he stopped himself. Why even bother? They'd been having a good time. Quiet and anxious and filled with worry, but-

It was good. Simply good.

"Whatever." he finally said, and then returned his focus to the road, feeling his pride get slaughtered. Still, it was a worthy sacrifice; one that would let the day die without being tarnished by some petty fight. Which, might he add, would be the first argument-free day they'd shared in a _month_. He knew his younger twin was afraid of moving out. Stanford was, too. But instead of shoving those fears aside, Stanley took them out on _him._

He did it by picking on his older twin. Or whining. Answering things sarcastically. Poking fun at every little mistake Stanford made. Making snide comments. Doing stupid things he shouldn't have and then blaming it on Stanford. And, to be honest, each grated - no, _fried - _every last nerve Stanford had in his entire body. For the most part, Stanford would return the favor and bicker right back at him.

But today was going to be different. No matter what problems came their way. No matter how many times Stanley sighed or Stanford raised an eyebrow. No matter how many stupid words came out of Stanford's mouth or how many snide remarks Stanley shot back. No matter who had to pay for gas or who wanted to drive or which way they should take or how many hours they spent in that car, both disconnected from one another, wanting something to cling to in this time of uncertainty yet unwilling to swallow their ego and admit that they were, simply, _scared_.

"How long 'til we get there?" Stanford asked.

Stanley pulled out their map from the glovebox and unraveled it. "About thirty minutes. If this traffic ever lets up, I mean. All these people wasting all this gas just to throw their money at a bunch of tourist traps... it's highway robbery, if you ask _me_."

"Makes 'em happy, I guess." Stanford replied with a shrug.

"It makes the town's con-men happy, too."

For the first time in hours, they laughed. Not much - just a few chuckles - but it was enough to make them smile for a long while afterwards. On and on they drove, passing mountains, streams, forests, and a lake at one point, both feeling the weight of worry softly lift from their shoulders as they drew closer to their destination. Eventually, a billboard appeared in the distance that read '_Welcome to Gravity Falls_' in faded orange and sage letters. Stanley threw the map back into the glove compartment and mumbled, "I wonder how big it is?"

"The sign back there said the population was five-hundred."

"_Five-hundred!?" _Stanley yelped, flying forward in his seat and giving their surroundings a wide-eyed scan. "It's _that _small?"

"Yep."

"Oh." he replied.

He knew he shouldn't be surprised, and leaned back in his seat once more, one hand over the other in his lap and fingers pulling at each other. "Guess I just expected it to be a bit...bigger?"

"Ha! Are you _kiddin' _me!?" Stanford boomed. "Smack dab in the center of Oregon? Nah, this place-" he paused to honk at a driver who'd cut him off. "Ugh... anyways, at least it'll be a good startin' point for you."

"Starting point?"

The older twin gave Stanley a glance and continued. "You know, your Sherlock stuff. Don't have to worry about solvin' big murders, or gettin' cases where there's all this mixin' and matchin' of this person axed _this_ one and that cat blew _that_ guy's brains out..."

"But-"

"Your biggest cases _here're _probably gonna be findin' tourists that thought pettin' the bears was a good idea, or bustin' up a moonshine still in someone's outhouse."

"Actually-"

"A good startin' point. Nothin' too serious, eh? I don't need my little brother gettin' tangled up in some dangerous mess."

The older twin slapped a meaty palm on the younger one's head and ruffled his hair. Protests burst from Stanley's mouth and, after many grumbles and swears, Stanford finally let up. Stanley slugged him in the shoulder, but it didn't even make his brother flinch, never mind wipe the shit-eating grin off his face, so he just sighed, gave up, and returned to staring outside. The outskirts of town were spread-out, abandoned cabins, holes in their wooden sides and webs stretched across black, empty windows. Nothing impressive. Creepy, actually. But once their car met the bottom of the valley and turned right...

The Pines twins were astonished. Amazed. In awe, even, with jaws slackened and brown eyes unable to take every minute, beautiful detail in.

In a perfect hollow between two rocky bluffs - shaped like a giant had scooped his five fingers into the land - sat Gravity Falls, a small village that was unremarkable, save for its natural surroundings. At its mouth was a dark railroad that stretched from cliff face to cliff face, gleaming in the dusk light as the two young men neared the eye-like opening of the chasm. Over a sunset-stained river they wove, back and forth, following the only road into town and wondering what jaw-dropping sight lay around the next corner. Waterfalls, dips and rises in the land, bold, purple mountains with jagged backs cutting into the sky...

Stanley's next words jolted them out of their trance. "It's, uh... this place is a lot better than I thought it would be."

It only took one smirk. One crooked, toothy, _knowing _smirk from Stanford to make Stanley retrace his verbal steps. "I-its probably full of hillbillies, though! You know, backwater people and possum-eating kooks and, well, the food is probably bad and the water's probably full of bacteria and... and..."

"You like it, don't you?"

A slight pause. "It's alright."

Stanford's eyebrow raised. "_'Alright'_? Then what was that look on your face doin' for the last ten minutes!? Sure _looked _like you were impressed."

"I've never seen Oregon before. That's all."

"'Never seen it before'? We've been drivin' through Oregon for the last three hours! You sure as hell weren't droolin' at the scenery _then._"

"I just didn't expect the town to look like this, alright?" Stanley paused to adjust his glasses. "It's... it's okay. Just okay."

"You're killin' me, kid. Utterly _killin' _me. You've got your degree, you got a job faster than a rabid squirrel on steroids, we're on our own and independent with no worries in the world... and _then_-"

"Stanford-"

"We just turned twenty-four-"

"_Stanford_-"

The older twin gave a sigh. "I gave up my girlfriend in California just to come up here with you. Granted, she'd been cheatin' on me and she was kinda ugly, anyways-"

"_Stan!"_

The next few moments were like photographs: still, yet vivid, oozing past their minds' eye and forever burned into their memory. First came the part where Stanford, jostled out of his rant by his brother's yell, finally turned his head to see what lay before them. Eyes glinting in the headlights, a deer burst across the pine needle smothered road. Stanley grabbed the wheel. Stanford jerked it back. Closer. Faster. Honking. Brakes screeching. Fighting over which direction to take. Bracing themselves for impact. The Sun shining on the horizon. The front end of their car heading straight for the doe and about to hit it. A small _person _with a red, pointed hat riding on the deer's back, cutting in front of the Galaxie, blocking the light from their faces and, finally, after what seemed like an eternity-

They missed it by a centimeter.

By the time they'd gathered their senses, the Galaxie had already lurched to a stop, a spray of smoke and pebbles in its wake and a long line of angry drivers, emerging from their canoe-topped cars, just behind. But the twins were numb to the world. Hearts racing, breathing shallow and quick, the brothers clung to each other.

This was all fine and dandy, except-

"Stanford?"

Another deep breath. "Yeah?"

"You're choking me."

Stanford instantly let go and muttered a half-coherent apology. They took another few minutes to allow themselves to relax, ignoring the crowd of tourists that were banging on their car. Stanford could finally blink. Stanley stopped his shaking. The deer was gone. And, despite how close they'd been to smashing into the red trunk of a pine...

They were safe. Pants almost soiled and surrounded by an angry mob, but safe.

The older brother stumbled out of the car and tried to appease the tourists, explaining that he, the "simple white-shirt-wearin', good-lookin' city boy from the Oakland suburbs" was "admirin' the beauty of nature and all that hippie shit" and, while encouraging his "depressed, nerdy little brother", got distracted and tried his best to "swerve outta the way of that wonderful, innocent, bug-eyed, dumb creature" but almost "hit its huge ass" and was "terribly sorry" for his "reckless acts" and hoped that they "would forgive him and his twin and forget that this ever happened".

It didn't work. By the time Stanford was finished giving the speech twice, Stanley just gave up, planted his palm into his face, and yelled, "Get back in the car, Stanford!"

The older twin motioned for the tourists to wait a second, smiled the most fake smile he'd ever smiled, darted into the car, slammed the door, put it into drive, stomped on the gas pedal like his life depended on it, and sped away into the dusk, leaving the cluttered road and crowd behind.

* * *

"So, did you see it?"

Stanford glanced up from his meal to see his younger twin giving him a bright-eyed, hopeful look. After another bite of his burger, he threw it down onto his plate, finished chewing, swallowed, sniffled...

And then stared right back. "See _what_?"

"You know, while that deer was running across the road?"

"What?"

Irritation flared in Stanley's chest. "Did you see it or _not_?"

"What the hell are you talkin' about, kid?" he paused to eat a fry. "You gotta tell me _what _I was supposed to see before I can tell you that I _saw _it."

They shared a long, quiet moment, Stanley taking his eyes off of his brother and casting them around the diner. Much like the rest of the town, it was unique (to say the very least), and set inside an ancient, large, fallen, hollowed out redwood. How they'd done this, Stanley had no idea, but he had to admit that it was a cool idea. Stars began to glisten in the sky outside of their booth's window. He recognized one constellation - the Big Dipper - but couldn't see much beyond that. His mind drifted past other random observations, like how the booth seats were yellow or how a big rat had just scurried by the front door.

But then his focus suddenly returned. What he'd witnessed earlier... that strange creature on the deer's tawny back...

Was it just his imagination?

"You're daydreamin' again, Stanley."

He jerked out of his thoughts and mumbled, "Sorry."

"It's all right. Anyways," Stanford said, rubbing the stubble on his chin and eying the young waitress behind the counter. "What were you sayin'?"

"I was... it was... it was nothing."

Stanford didn't buy it for one second, but accepted the answer anyways. Besides, he was too busy checking out the blonde out to care. Never one to shy away from attention, when she finally realized he was staring at her and gave him a flirty smile, he told Stanley he'd be right back and left the table to strike up a conversation.

_We're here for two hours and he's already looking for a girlfriend. _Stanley thought after a shake of his head. _Typical_.

Whatever. It gave him an excuse to shut up and stare off into the distance; no interruptions or "What'cha doin', Stanley?"'s whatsoever to crash his train of thought. Though, he'd been done with his dinner for a long while and he _was _getting bored just sitting there...

He got up, slid out of the booth, told his brother he'd be in the car, and went out into the clear, cold April night, chest flooding with irritation at Stanford and mind going fifty miles a minute. Of _course _he couldn't explain to his twin what he'd seen. He'd probably give him some dumbfounded look, laugh, and tell him he was just seeing things or that he needed to get his head out of the clouds. But the way Stanley saw it, _Stanford _was the bubblehead. Flying from girl to girl, flunking high school, dazzled by senseless optimism and finding non-existent horizons to chase... _all _of it. His entire life had been a wild goose chase that _always _ended in failure.

_Maybe... maybe I'm being too harsh. Maybe he'll make something of himself here?_

Stanley was doubtful. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to admit it and, face blank and arms clinging together before his black-shirted torso, leaned against their Ford. Moonlight streamed from above. Wind rushed through the valley, chilling the young man to the bone and ruffling his brown hair. He wished his relationship with his twin could be simpler, like when they were younger. Back then, they always agreed on everything, worked together, had each other's backs, supported one another through thick and thin, never kept a secret from one another, and _always _stood up for whoever wasn't strong enough to stand up for himself.

Once Stanley had gone away to the University of California to get his degree in Criminal Justice, the two grew distant. They called each other once in a while, but it wasn't enough. What began as a world they shared turned into two different realities. No longer did they spend their days together. No longer were they completely honest with one another. No longer did they plan pranks together or spend their birthday together or study together or have the same friends or have the same thoughts or, in all honesty, _get along _with one another.

_Maybe that's why Stanford was so eager to come to Oregon with me? _

It made sense: Stanford wanted to stitch their lives back together... wanted to get his younger twin brother back before he drifted away forever. It wasn't working, so far, but...

He was trying. Stanford was trying his best and that was all Stanley needed. No matter how much he might get mad at his brother for making stupid decisions, he knew that he would always be there for him.

"Stannie Boy!"

Stanley's eyes burst open to see him emerge from the diner, white shirt glowing in the moonlight and skinny-jeaned legs carrying his running form. A wide smile cracked through his cheeks and Stanley, already knowing what had happened, smiled in response.

"She's going on a date with you, right?"

Stanford caught up and, bent over, nodded furiously with excitement. "Yup. She said... tomorrow night at... at nine at the bowling alley and... well, yeah."

"Must be pretty desperate if she said yes."

The older twin's smile instantly faded. "W-what... what's _that _supposed to mean?"

"You know, I'm just saying."

"Yeah, well... say it again and I'll beat the shit out of you."

They both entered the car, Stanley in the driver's side and Stanford in the passenger seat. Despite the older brother's threat and despite the younger brother's certainty that he could probably carry it out, they were both happy. Simply happy. Young and free and the fire of their futures beginning to spark to life.

"So, how much was the bill at the diner?"

Stanford looked confused. "Huh?"

"The bill?" he paused as he stopped at a red light just outside the restaurant. "You know, paying for our dinner?"

It took a few moments for Stanford to respond, but when he did, it was with a sheepish grin. "I might've... I think I forgot."

"You _forgot _to pay?"

"Mm-hmm."

Stanley Pines took one last glance at the log-shaped building, saw that the light had turned green, and gladly drove away. Far, _far _away.

As fast as he possibly could.

"Alright. So, where's the house?"

"What?"

The younger twin felt himself begin to sweat. "You bought the house, right? You know, a place to stay? Here in Oregon?"

"Oh, that's right!" Stanford slapped his own forehead. "I _forgot _to tell you..."

"T-tell me _what_?"

"That we're meeting the real estate agent tomorrow. The closing's tomorrow, I mean."

The car screeched to a stop. Heart drumming, expression twisted with pure horror, Stanley slowly turned his head to stare at his brother.

"_You didn't buy the house yet? _But I gave you the down payment!_"_

Stanford thought about it for a second, and then answered, "Nope. We both have to be there to sign the papers. You know that, don't you?"

"Then what are we going to do!? Sleep in the _Galaxie_!?"

"Sheesh, I don't see what your damn problem is. We can just pull over, take a snooze, wake up, and close on the house tomorrow."

Before the younger brother could protest, Stanford pushed his seat back and turned onto his side. Within seconds he was asleep.

_He's trying, Stanley_. the younger twin consoled himself. _He's trying. Give him a break. It'll all work out fine. You __**won't **__get mauled by wolves. You __**won't **__get robbed by hobos. You __**won't **__get a knock on the window by the police and be put in jail for not paying for a burger and a slice of meatloaf._

All he had to do was... he had to _remember_ one little, tiny, teensy, simple thing:

Stanford was _trying_.


End file.
